Dear Diary
by The Documentor
Summary: Allison Cameron moves out of her apartment. Oneshot fluff. HouseCameron. Badly named, roughly summarized.


A/N: Fluff. Pink, bouncing fluff. If you're expecting heart wrenching angst, turn away. It's a product of my boredom so don't expect to be the best piece of writing you've ever read. But thanks for clicking anyway ).

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That day was one of the happiest days of Allison Cameron's young life. It could probably be matched by her wedding day and maybe the day she graduated from college…no, this day was up there with them. Today was the day she was moving out of her dark and damp apartment, which she'd spent so many long nights alone in. Pulling things from the dark corners, the nooks and crannies of the small rooms was a sight, tugging all sorts of memories from the corners. The aura of dust around the apartment had caused her to sneeze more than a few times but she was smiling at everything she found.

Milling around her bedroom, she opened the almost pristine cupboard that her friend had cleaned and put into boxes for her to find one lone box sitting inside. Letting her long auburn hair fall over her maroon jumper, she squatted down to pick up the dusty box. Brushing off the dirt, she examined the label, which held her neat handwriting.

_Allison's stuff - KEEP OUT_

A smirk quirked on her face as she tore open the masking tape over the corners. She recognised her teenage handwriting on the label of the box so she was even more intrigued when she found ornaments of her childhood that she forgot she even possessed. Inside the box was kept a small black book, a red headband with a plastic yellow flower stuck to the top, a silver ring with a purple stone and a random collection of photos scattered over the bottom.

Pulling out the photos, times in her life she had forgotten existed flashed before her eyes as the little girl with curly brown hair smiled at her. The oldest photo in the pile was of a fifteen year old and a seventeen-year-old arm in arm, laughing at a joke no one knew anymore. She hummed at the memory of her and her brother on the subway going to the beach.

A flushed smile fell over her face as she slipped on the ring onto her smallest finger, remembering the tiny boy who gave that to her when she was fourteen and the hope on his face when he did so. She didn't even like the boy or want to see the movie but didn't have the heart to say no to his offer. The headband she had on in some of the photos, probably the oldest of her possessions as she got this for Christmas when she was three. She remembered slipping it on for the first time in front of the huge tree, feeling so proud to have something so pretty as her own. She slipped it around her older fingers and smiled, putting it beside her on the bed.

Her fingers caressed the black book, her mouth twitched into a smile as she flipped it open to find the old words she'd written staring back at her.

_17th April_

_Mr. Clark asked us today to write how we expect our lives to turn out. I think it's some survey they're conducting to get us to try and create some goals. But the thing is, how are we meant to know that? I mean, we know what we want but you can't always get what you want. So I went up to the front and asked him what he meant by 'how we expect'. Is that a want or a need? An expectation of yourself made by you or those around you? He just told me to explain what I think I'm going to make with my life, things like: will I get married? What job will I make? Stuff like that. So I thought about it and by the time I'd worked out what I was going to write, the bell rang and I had maths. Snore. But I still thought about it._

_I want to be a doctor, but I have no idea what specialty yet. I guess I can work that out in college. There's so many to choose from and I probably don't even know the half of them yet._

_Will I get married? Maybe, time will tell. I guess that's not the assignment… He won't care what others think of him. He'll stick up for me when someone puts me down and he'll have a good sense of humour so that we can laugh together. If looks mattered…he'd have amazingly beautiful eyes, he'd be tall and he'd take good care of himself. He'd always look smart and he'd be smart so that I can talk to him like I can nobody else._

_Ah, to dream._

_Ally xx_

She found herself giggling at her fifteen year old self's idea of what she would grow up to be.

"If only I'd known…" she chuckled, putting down the diary and taping back up the box.

"Is the nostalgia burning yet?" She looked up abruptly, a goofy grin still planted on her face as she caught eyes with the man leaning on the wooden frame.

She went over her fifteen-year-old checklist in her head, as she looked him up and down.

Doesn't care what anyone thinks? Check.

Stick up for me? Check.

Sense of humour? Check.

Beautiful eyes?

She looked up into his eyes and blushed when she caught a glimpse of the hilarity glinting in his bright blue eyes.

Check.

Tall?

She looked him up and down again, and without his cane by his side making him hunch over slightly-

Check.

Taking good care of him and looking smart?

She stood up, walking towards him and only stopped when her hands were pressed against the creased words on his Rolling Stone t-shirt and her body only inches away from his. She brought up a hand to flick a fleck of dust from one of his whiskers and smiled sweetly at him as she turned around to pick the box back up.

Check.

"C'mon," he said, letting her out of the room and hooking his arm around her waist as she walked through the now empty living room, "we've gotta get all this crap back to your new abode."

"Are you sure we're going to need all my crap as well as your crap?" She threw him a questionable look and he shrugged his shoulders, taking the box from her and hooking it under his left arm.

"You've got some pretty nice crap, I must admit. And Chase is treating it pretty crappily!" He called out of the window and yelled the last part; a blonde man at the bottom of the building shook his head and continued to push a couch into a truck. She gave a giggle as she slipped her hands into her jeans pockets, looking about the empty apartment.

"I'll leave you alone to part with it," Gregory House said, moving in quickly to peck her on the cheek, leaving her with a flushed face as he closed the white door.

She looked around the carpet and the white walls, wondering why she'd even chosen the apartment in the first place. It was the first place she'd seen in the newspaper as she came to New Jersey so she like the idea of the place but bought it before she saw it. She nodded her good bye, checking again if everything was out as she closed the door to her past to move on with the future.

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A/NII: Thanks for reading. Much appreciated. Reviews loved but flames...not so much loved. )


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